


Glam 100 Drabbles

by casey270



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Ashley Dzerigian (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Even I think this is weird., Fake Zombies, Gen, Horny little devils, Leather Daddy junior, M/M, Other, Peacocks, Pinocchio penis, Playing with puppets, Public Humiliation, Vampires, friends helping friends, snow dicks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 5,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1286350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/pseuds/casey270
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble set for the Glam-100 prompt: Kiss</p><p>this isn't a fluffy kiss fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kiss of Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> i got tired of going back to the original drabble post & editing in new drabbles, so I'm starting a new post here. Ratings and warning & pairings and characters will change depending on the drabble.

It always comes in the darkest part of the night. No sounds give away its approach. No changes in the air around him until it’s too late to get away. He’s not entirely sure if getting away is what he wants, though.

The long, sleepless nights are almost impossible to get through on his own. Sometimes the kiss that comes from nowhere is soft and welcome. Sometimes, it’s hard and demanding, holding a darkness all its own. And sometimes he needs that part that takes without asking.

He thinks he fights sleep just to be aware of when it comes.

~*~

So far, they’re just kisses and phantom touches. So far. And the weight that keeps him pinned in place. He’s never sure if the weight is a physical thing, or if it’s just in his mind. He can’t call out. It blankets everything, even sound.

And he sure as fuck can’t touch it or stop it, so he lies there, letting it feather his body with sensations, waiting for the kiss.

He floats in the kiss, welcoming the dark beauty of it for minutes or hours or until consciousness returns. Some nights it seems it’s the only rest he needs.

~*~

Something in the kiss holds him, taking him captive, and he doesn’t know why that doesn’t bother him. He should be fighting it. Everything in his life tells him that he should want to fight it, but he doesn’t.

He’s not sure if whatever’s behind the kiss would or could hurt him. Probably. It doesn’t seem to have a problem holding him still. But so far it hasn’t. 

So far it’s only given him what he needs. A chance to escape. A time for nothingness. A void.

If it ever wants more, maybe he’ll fight it. Or maybe he won’t.


	2. Studio Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "Studio" on [Glam 100](http://glam-100.livejournal.com/)

He knows this one is make or break for Adam. He fucking knows that, okay? That’s the only reason he’s here, making a fool of himself, listening to the instructor sigh as she says, “That’s supposed to be your right foot, Tommy.”

He hears the rest of it, too: the mumbled _or your other left foot, since you seem to have two of them_. 

He wouldn’t be here for anyone else. He’s not a dancer. He’s fucking well aware of that, thank you very much. But Adam’d asked so nicely, and Tommy’s never been able to say no to that.

~*~

Just a little choreography, Adam had said, and the _please?_ that Tommy had seen in his eyes was just as loud as the words. He’s always been a sucker for puppydog eyes and pouting lips, and Adam’s never been above using them to his advantage.

Thoughts of eyes and lips and questions that are asked without words are interrupted when he makes another wrong step and bumps into Ashley so hard she falls flat on her cute little ass.

He offers her a hand up. He’s a gentleman, after all. Clumsy as fuck, but his mama did teach him right.

~*~

He’s just as clumsy with his apology, but Ash just laughs it off. She knows as well as he does that the last place he should ever be is a dance studio.

He’s cool with jumping around on stage, but it’s gotta be his own thing, his own rhythm. He’s never been good at following instructions, and it doesn’t look like he’s gonna be starting now, judging by the way he looks out of place in the big mirror in front of them. He’s always a beat behind, something that should never happen with music, and everyone’s looking at him.

~*~

He’d like to storm out right now, while he still has a little bit of dignity left, but he reminds himself that he’s not doing this for his benefit.

He’s here for Adam, and Adam’s convinced that he needs this for the next tour, so Tommy sucks it up and gets ready for another heaping helping of humiliation. 

Except Adam calls a halt right then, and Tommy knows why. 

Adam covers by saying that their time’s up, and the studio’s booked for the next few hours, but Tommy knows they have enough time left for at least one more run-through.

~*~

Tommy doesn’t want anyone's pity, especially not Adam’s. He knows he could do this. He really can learn it, just not in front of everyone. Once he has a chance to sort it all out in his head, he’s sure he can put it together in the right order.

But right now, he can feel everyone looking at him, judging his inability to keep up with the group. He’s the odd man out, set apart from his friends by his own inability to learn this.

He’s not feeling the togetherness and bonding that usually come whenever they all get together.

~*~

He knows he’s the one putting up fucking barriers between himself and the others, though. At first he could laugh it off, and so could they. They laughed about it together, because they _were_ together; they were still a fucking _family_. But time and repetition didn’t help him improve. Instead, nerves made his feet more uncooperative, his movements as graceful as a drunken goat, until he felt like a goddamn stumbling fool.

Now he wants to run and hide, not just from the newcomers of their group and the fucking condescending as hell instructor, but from his own friends, too.

~*~

He makes a break for the nearest bathroom, locking himself in a stall, leaning his head against the cool, hard metal of the door. He thinks he’s maybe been in here long enough for everyone to forget about him and clear out when he hears a knock on the door. And a voice. Of fucking course.

“Not gonna leave you in there by yourself,” he hears Adam say. It should sound hard and cold, he thinks, bouncing off the tiles and metal, but it doesn’t. It sounds like Adam always sounds - perfect, and Tommy feels something letting go inside.

~*~

“Come on out. I reserved a practice room for the rest of the day. It’ll just be you and me and Terr. The three of us have been in on this ride since the beginning, and we’ll work this out together.”

Tommy thinks he can work with that arrangement. Those two know him. They know what he needs, and one of the things he needs is having his shield in front of him. When he’s got his guitar between himself and the damn mirrors that don’t miss a single mistake, he feels more secure. He can keep up with the steps.

~*~

Most of the steps, anyway. Terrance is a damn sight better at choreographing on a personal level than whoever the fuck Adam’d hired to do it, at least in Tommy’s opinion. He makes adjustments on the fly, and when he says _Try this_ as he changes one of Tommy or Adam’s moves, they both know that not only will they be able to try it, they’ll be able to do it, because Terrance _knows_ them.

And not to get all deep or philosophical or shit, but Tommy thinks that’s what this is all about - friends always know what you need.


	3. Grayscale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the [Glam 100](http://glam-100.livejournal.com/) prompt: Colors

Most of his life has been grayscale. It’s there, but just barely. It runs through the range of the palest almost-white for the days that nothing really happens, to the dark underbelly of stormclouds for the times he wants to curl in a ball and sleep forever, just to get away from everything. 

There are flashes of color here and there. The day his niece was born was a bright, sunny yellow. But the day his dad died was cloaked in somber burgundies and browns. 

Good times, spent with good friends, are rich and green, warm and comforting and alive.

~*~

But when he makes his music, the colors come alive. The cool blues of the soulful songs and the pinks and purples of pop come out to play. The oranges of funk mix with the reds of rock and do a fire dance in his mind that makes its way through his fingers to the strings of his guitar.

These are the times he lives for. Life without music is like music without life.

When he’s in the groove, he gets to live in all the shades and tints and tones that go on and on forever, and life’s beautiful.


	4. Worlds of Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Different tours are like different worlds
> 
> Going back to the beginning of Glam 100 prompts. this one is for Prompt 001: On the bus - no sex

The tours were worlds apart, both in scope and luxury. The addition of a private jet was the most prominent point of difference. It’s not that he didn’t love that jet, because he did. Having it gave them more time. They could stay in one place longer because the amount of their lives they had to budget for traveling was less. 

It’s just that he missed the tour bus sometimes. 

Crazy as it sounded, he missed the closeness of it and the hustle and the crowding every bit as much as he missed the late night talks with good friends.

~*~

He missed sharing a drink with someone who knew every little thing about him. He’d found out that it was impossible to hide anything on a bus, but when he was with people he cared about, he didn’t have much he wanted to hide.

He missed the way the rest of the world and all its troubles seemed to fade when the rhythm of the road took over. 

He missed the way they could all pile in the lounge and watch a movie or listen to music or just do nothing except catch their breath. 

Life seemed much simpler then.


	5. Til It Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the glam 100 prompt: Playing with fire.

Silly teasing, that’s how it starts. Quick kisses when they’re least expected. A press of thighs from sitting closer than necessary. A brush of a touch in passing. 

It’s a game, a wild fire dance done to the rhythm of their lives, and it grows. The idea of innocence burns last, in a heated encounter secreted in a locked dressing room. Hands reaching and touching, pushing clothing aside in search of more. Lips and tongues pressing harder and deeper, trying to find truths and rightness. 

Whispers of _I can’t_ are answered with thoughts of _But we can_ and _Why not?_

~*~

The flames grow, coloring the world with heat and passion, looking for simple warmth. Bodies entwine, entangle and join, touching secret places, and the energy feeds and encourages the hunger until it burns everything clean.

The immediacy is sated, but not the fervor. 

Quiet, soft words, spoken in the glow of the embers. _Don’t play with me. I’m not a toy_. Gentle touches of reassurance give more strength than any verbal answer could. A promise, clear and easy, passes between them with the ghosting of a finger, while the fuel of passions readies for another chance to feed their needs.


	6. Music of the Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Glam 100 prompt: Bewitched by the Bayou

There’s something about the way the sound travels when the fog comes in that’s just fucking right. The dampness and the vegetation keep the echo down, while the music floats forever over the water. 

There’s a raw, emotional, plaintive feeling the music has then that’s like nothing else in the world. It pulls at his heart and his gut and his dick all at once. It’s like some kind of goddamn magic or voodoo or some shit. It doesn’t happen often, just often enough to keep calling him back, year after year. He tries to bring someone new each time.

~*~

Two weeks every year in the Big Easy. Sounds like a fucking party, right? Except he spends all night, every night out on the bayou instead of crawling through the bars. He plays to the swamp grass; he plays to the gators. He plays to the damn moon and stars, all the while hoping the mist comes in.

This year, this trip, this night, Adam’s with him. They’re out on the dock, just screwing around with the music, but Tommy can feel the difference in the air. The fog’s coming. With Adam here, the music’s gonna be fucking great tonight.

~*~

He starts playing notes that are cool and blue, waiting until the time’s right to play a real song. He wants Adam to get the full effect all at once. No buildup, no gradual shift, no shades of gray. Just BAM!

Tonight, the mist is fucking perfect. Just enough to take off any sharp edges. As soon as it reaches the dock and wraps itself around them, he starts playing the soft notes that make their way through his head, adding vibrato in just the right places. 

This is a song that was fucking meant for a night like tonight.

~*~

It doesn’t take Adam long to start picking up the gentle rhythm of it, nodding to the beat. The first notes he sings, the _Well I heard there was a secret chord_ , is so damn breathtaking that Tommy almost stops playing. It’s the kind of sound that’s too full of beauty for the world to hear. He thinks it would break the balance of the universe or something.

When Adam hits the line _It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_ , Tommy thinks he’s found his own kind of heaven on earth. The fading, trailing hallelujahs take his heart home.


	7. Puppet on a String Part Deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the Glam 100 Prompt #004: Puppet Master 
> 
> This one is for [glitterwriter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitterwriter/pseuds/Glitterwriter) and is a continuation of her drabble set which can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2357633)
> 
> and this is all her fault. she encouraged me.

“Wow, I could swear he’s rolling his eyes now.”

_Damn right!_

If he’s gonna be stuck playing out the next couple of hours as Adam’s little puppet, he’s gonna be a fucking independent puppet. He knew he could get those eyes rolling if he tried hard enough. Except he can feel things happening in other places, too.

“Terrance, is his little puppet dick growing?”

“It looks like it might be. Or maybe he’s just getting a little morning wood.”

_Oh, that’s clever. I’d laugh, Terrance, if I could move my damn mouth._

“Look, he’s rolling his little puppet eyes again.”

~*~

“And his little puppet cock is getting bigger!”

“It’s growing right out of his pants. Make him roll his eyes again. Let’s see how long it can get!”

Just fucking great! Not only is he a puppet, but he’s a puppet with a Pinocchio pecker! 

This is gonna be one hell of a long two hours. If he could just close his eyes, he could sleep through it and maybe keep a little bit of his dignity intact, but no. The only thing he can do is roll his damn eyes, which is like a magic crank for his dick.

~*~

He’ll just ignore them. Can’t be too hard to do that for a couple of hours, right? He’ll just pretend they’re not standing right over him, staring at his wood. As long as they don’t touch it, he should be okay.

Except Adam does just that. Of course.

He reaches down and flicks it with his finger and Tommy can feel it! It’s not like a normal boner. It feels like he has a fucking metronome attached down there

“Wait a sec. Let me get my phone. I gotta put this on Instagram.”

“Look, Ter. He’s rolling his eyes again.”


	8. Vampires, Again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nothing but crack for prompt #5: Vampires

“Vampires? Again? Don’t either of you have any imagination?”

“Fuck off, Neil. Vampires are cool. Besides, I was John Wayne last year.”

“You looked more like the doll in Toy Story than John Wayne.”

“Yeah, but Adam was that cool peacock thing.”

“That wasn’t a peacock, Tommy. That was a genie. I was the genie of Halloweenie.”

“Yeah, and you were some fucked up leather daddy junior, too. Sometimes, I’m ashamed to admit you’re my brother.”

“It’s not easy coming up with three different costumes. You gotta admit that I was a wicked demon, though. Tommy thought of that one.”

~*~

“Everybody gets lucky sometimes, Adam. And one for three isn’t a good record.”

“But I liked the peacock one. He was my private peacock that night.”

“TMI, Tommy. I don’t ever want to hear about my brother’s peacock and what you two do with it.”

“I was a GENIE. Remember, Tommy. I even gave you three wishes.”

“Oh, yeah. Remember that second wish I made?”

“I’m not listening. Nope. No fucking way. I do NOT want to know what the horny little shit wished for.”

“Adam, I wanna be a horny little shit this year. Can I borrow your horns?”


	9. Show Me the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween theme drabble set for the Glam 100 Prompt #006: you'd be calling out my name

“Lambert? Where are you, damn it?”

Two and a half hours spent lost in a damn corn maze Adam had rented out for his Halloween party wasn’t exactly Tommy’s idea of a fun night. 

“Adam?” he calls as loudly as he can. He thinks his voice is probably gonna give up soon. He’s been yelling for the last hour, at least. 

At first, it’d been fun. The maze was full of people and voices and music and noise, but he hadn’t seen anyone else for a long fucking time. Hell, he hadn’t heard a sound for the last half hour.

~*~

Even the goddamn sound system had shut down. There was no more music blasting over the stalks. Now it was just his own pathetic voice, calling out for Adam to come rescue him, like some damn damsel in distress.

“Come on, Adam. Where the hell are you?” he hollers, not really believing it’ll do any good. He doesn’t believe the little tracker beacon they all had to put on before they went into the maze is doing any good, either. If it were working, someone would have found him by now, no matter how fucking big this damn maze is.

~*~

Tommy pulls the slick, colorful little map out of his pocket. It’s another little safeguard that isn’t fucking working. The idea is simple enough, and it’d looked so uncomplicated when he was standing on the outside, ready to go in. All he had to do was follow a lazy diagonal from the entrance to the exit, except it was all done in shapes that could be seen from above.

Follow the outline of the T Rex to the damn jackolantern to the letters that spelled out _BOO!_ and he should have been home free, right? 

It’d all seemed so easy.

~*~

But being inside the maze wasn’t the same thing as looking at a map, and all the corridors and rows and intersections looked the same from in here. Hell, he can’t tell if he’s standing in front of what’s supposed to be part of a dinosaur tooth or a letter or if he’s way the fuck off in a dead end corner. One cornstalk looks exactly like every other fucking cornstalk, and he’s so damn tired of them, he could scream.

Instead, he yells again. “Adam? I need you, man. I’m fucking lost, and I don’t wanna die in here.”

~*~

He hears a chuckle behind him. Of course he does. He’s been out here yelling his damn head off for an hour, and nobody was around to hear. He goes a little over the top, and sure as shit, there’s somebody close.

And it’s not just any somebody. No fucking way he could be lucky enough to have some random hear him, right? Nope, it has to be Adam, the very person whose name he’s been calling all freaking night. 

“Really, Tommy? Die in here? Isn’t that just a little dramatic?” Adam asks, and there’s that god damn chuckle again.

~*~

He’d be mad, but there’s something throaty and sexy in that laugh that only Adam can manage.

“It’s about time you showed up, fucker. Were you gonna leave me alone all night?” Tommy asks, and if he punches Adam’s shoulder, it’s done with more playfulness than force.

“I had to wait until the others were all gone. Now it’s just the security guard at the front gate, and he promised to leave us alone in here. Besides, I really like hearing you call my name. I wanna hear you do it again. Ever done it in a cornfield, Tommy Joe?”


	10. The Monster Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Glam 100 Prompt: Halloween

He’s not sure what it is about Halloween that makes it special. Maybe it’s the way it lets him hide who he really is for a night or even just a few hours while a party is going on.

Maybe it’s because it lets him live larger than life, his life anyway, for as long as he has the costume on.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because for one night of the year he doesn’t have to hide who he really is. It’s one night when the monster inside gets to come out and play, and no one says anything.


	11. Aim For the Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the Glam 100 prompt #008: Texting/Tweeting 
> 
> Still in Halloween mode.

_What the hell, Tommy? You almost hit me._

Adam sends the text while he’s reloading. The battle’s heavy all around him, and he can’t even separate the sounds of individual shots anymore. 

Feeling the vibration of a return communique, Adam looks at his phone.

_Relax, bossman. I was aiming for that motherfucker behind you. Got him, too. Thank me later._

He looks behind him, and sure enough, there’s one of the really dead walking dead lying on the ground.

Firing off another burst, Adam swears this in the last time Tommy’s gonna talk him into a paintball match against zombies.


	12. Battle Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Glam-100 promt #009: Scars
> 
> Happy Halloween

“How about here?” Adam asks, rubbing his thumb over one of the small bruises on Tommy’s back. “Does this one hurt?”

“Of course it hurts,” Tommy answers, wincing with appropriate drama and over exaggeration. “I fucking got shot, man.”

“A paintball, Tommy. You got shot by a paintball, playing a game that you wanted to play.”

“No, I got shot by like a million paintballs. All at once. And those suckers hurt.”

“Want me to kiss it better?”

“Maybe after the next round. Talked to the dude in charge. We get to be zombies next, if you’re up for it.”


	13. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the Glam 100 Prompt #010: Time Flies
> 
> this marks the five year anniversary of the AMA performance of For Your Entertainment and the kiss seen round the world

“It’s been five years, man. Hard to believe that shit, isn’t it?”

Tommy’s fidgeting with his guitar, not really playing, just hitting random notes and chords. It’s soothing but distracting, giving them both something other than the words to focus on. 

“Five years makes a long road,” Adam says, looking out the window because looking at each other is just a little too hard right now. “Sometimes it doesn’t lead us to the place we thought it would when we started.”

“Yeah, but this is one hell of a road. You gotta fucking stay on it long as you can.”

~*~

“But what if it’s taking me away from what I want? What happens if this road is taking me further away from where I want to be?”

Adam stares at the quiet nighttime lights outside the window. He’s not seeing the hills or the houses or the trees. He’s looking inside, for the road, the path of his life. 

Destiny and the future aren’t meant for men to see, though. They’re meant to be experienced as they happen, to be appreciated in all their spontaneity. After all, the best laid schemes and plans mean nothing in the face of fate.

~*~

“I didn’t see myself here, you know?” he tells the pane of glass and the reflection of the man he thought would still be walking beside him. “Five years ago, I didn’t see us taking different turns.”

He has to stop and take a breath, because this is just too big to get out without it. This is what he’s always wanted, part of it at least, so why is it making him feel like he failed somewhere along the way? Some part of him feels like he’s given up on himself. He’s not sure how to deal with that.

~*~

“Just because we’re not together on stage right now doesn’t mean we won’t be ever again,” Tommy says, and the notes he plucks from the strings are discordant and jarring. “I told you in the beginning, I’m here as long as you want me. Or need me.”

Tommy plays a few bars of For Your Entertainment, and it’s like they’re right back at the beginning. 

“We might be on different paths now, but when you finish the album and you’re ready to tour, all you have to do is call. We’ll tart up your rock and roll all over again.”


	14. Welcome Home

The text alert goes off on Adam’s phone, but there’s no number, no name, no contact listed. It’s strange, but not so strange that he doesn’t open the message.

_I like your dick._

Okay, that got his attention. This could be fun. 

And exciting.

Or it could just be that someone found his number who really shouldn’t have it. He’s seen things on twitter, things he wishes to hell he’d missed, that are similar. 

Whatever.

Without knowing who it came from, there’s not much he can do except ignore it, right? Besides, it’s late, and his bed’s calling his name.

~*~

He’s just crawling under the covers when his phone sounds again. Just like the last time, there’s nothing to let him know who the sender is.

_You have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen._

He has to admit that that’s a little flattering and a whole lot creepy as fuck. He just hopes that whoever it is that’s talking about his dick is someone who’s actually seen it. 

Besides, it’s not even close to being as creepy as what comes through next. 

_I’m touching your dick right now._

That makes his balls shrivel up and try to crawl right inside.

~*~

And when his phone sounds again, Adam doesn’t want to look, but he can’t stop himself.

_I have a question, though._

This message isn’t as triggering as the others were, but it’s leading and trailing, and he knows the next one will be a hell of a lot worse.

He thinks maybe he should call the police or someone, but his phone goes off again before he gets the chance. Of course it does.

He’s still holding the phone in his hands, and even though he knew it was going to sound again, he almost drops it when it does.

~*~

His hands are shaking now, almost too much to open the text, but he manages.

_Why is your dick on your front lawn?_

That’s… not what he was expecting. His mind’s trying to make sense of it, and his hand wanders down to feel his junk, just to reassure himself that it’s still firmly attached and where it belongs. 

He stares at the screen for who knows how long, trying to figure out what it all means, before he notices there’s an attachment. 

He’s not aware of making a decision to open it. His brain shut down two texts ago.

~*~

He sees a picture of the front of his house, but it’s all white and fuzzy looking. There’s something he thinks he absolutely recognizes in the picture, but he doesn’t trust his own phone. Or eyes.

He puts on a robe and goes to the closest front facing window he can find, and yeah, he was right. 

Right there, on his lawn, for everyone to see, is a giant snow making machine, blowing icy crystals into the night air. Of course there is.

But that’s not all. That’s not even close to being all. 

His friends have such wicked minds.

~*~

There’s a six foot tall snow sculpture of the most perfect dick Adam’s ever seen. Even from the second floor window, he can see that it’s been lovingly crafted and detailed.

He recognizes faces in the group of people standing around the work of art, people he hasn’t seen since the tour started, and he can’t help smiling down at them, just like he can't stop his fingers from opening the text that comes through. 

_We really do like your dick. Hope you do, too. Welcome home._

He uses his phone to take some pictures. He might even instagram one. 

 


	15. Different Toys for Grown Up Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the Playroom prompt on Glam 100

“I still don’t see why you want to keep a guitar in here, Tommy,” Adam said, looking at the row of three new wall mounted guitar hangers. “We already have a perfectly good music room. Why not just keep them there.”

“Because this is the playroom, and when I play, I play my guitars. Besides, how’re you gonna explain that flogger you left behind the lamp to Riff next time he visits Uncle Adam? You know that shit’s supposed to be kept in the bedroom.” 

“If you can keep what you like to play with, I’ll keep what I like.”

~*~

“Besides, I’ll just tell him it’s for when we play Indiana Jones, like his legos. He knows Uncle Tommy likes to play adventure games with Uncle Adam.”

“Yeah, because you told him that. But when Bridget found the handcuffs, why the hell did you tell her they were for me when I’m naughty and need a time out? Why didn’t you just tell her they’re for when we play cops and robbers or something?”

“Because she idolizes you, and she’d never believe that you could be a bad guy, even when you’re playing. She knows you can be naughty, though.”

~*~

“You’re still lucky she bought it. It could have turned into another ballgag debacle. Your mom saw right through that one.”

“Who even uses words like debacle? And it’s not like there wasn’t a precedent for it. I’ve accessorized with sex toys before. I even wore it to dinner, just to prove it was a piece of jewelry.”

“But it wasn’t a piece of jewelry, Adam. It wasn’t a necklace or a choker or anything other than a big old black ballgag, and Neil laughed his ass off all night, watching you try to swallow with it around your neck.”

~*~

“Neil’s an ass. He doesn’t count.”

“Maybe, but your mom and Riff and Bridget do. You have to learn to put your toys away when you’re done playing.”

“Or we could just get rid of them. Make this a toy free, completely vanilla relationship.”

“Yeah, like that would ever work, Adam. Just learn to put the damn things away.”

“Cuddle time always follows immediately after playtime. Do you want to give up that, Tommy?”

“No way you’re cutting into cuddle time. Cuddling is like air. I need it to live or something. Just learn to make up better stories, okay?”


	16. Bigger and Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #015: Hangover Hamburgers 
> 
> Inspired by this tweet - https://twitter.com/babyjesusfilms/status/569556729480011776 - because I always thought the UK was part of Europe, too. Rufus has to explain things to Adam.

“Tell me why the hell we thought last night was a good idea.”

“Because we were telling Europe goodbye in style, Adam.”

“But isn’t the UK part of Europe?” 

“Please don’t ever ask that again. A question like that could start a fight.”

“But why does style have to equal so much alcohol? I think my liver’s still floating.”

“Are you seriously complaining about an excuse to party? Grow some bollocks, man. Just eat your food. Nothing helps a hangover like greasy burgers.” 

“We’re gonna do this all over in a few days, aren’t we?”

“Yep, except bigger and better.”


	17. Happy For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Glam-100 prompt 016: Midnight Secrets

There’s a lot of time to think on the flight home, and Adam takes advantage of it all. He thinks and dreams and tries to imagine every possible scenario and outcome. He knows it’s impossible, because the beauty of life lies in its unpredictability. He appreciates that. He really does.

It’s just that it isn’t helping him decide if he’s doing the right thing or not. How can he know? How can he be sure it’s right this time? 

How the hell can he make decisions that’ll affect the rest of his life when he doesn’t have all the facts?

~*~

He thinks on the plane. He thinks in the car on the ride home. He thinks as he wanders through his house, reacquainting himself with all the little things that tell him he’s finally home. He’s happy being home. He’s very happy with what home means: the friends, the places, the partying.

But he was happy before, too. He was happy with the steady stream of new people and experiences, with the sights and sounds and constant, frantic energy all around. 

And he was happy when he had someone there to share it with, someone who knows him so well.

~*~

Lying in bed in the quiet hours of the night, he’s no closer to figuring out which happiness is best or which one will last. The secret of working that out won’t reveal itself to him, no matter how hard he tries to learn it.

He fidgets, tosses and turns, worrying about making the wrong decision, and then it hits him. 

All those things made him happy, but trying to choose one over the others is making him unhappy. He thinks the key to lasting happiness might be accepting that the things that bring joy in the moment are enough.


End file.
